


Between Sugar and Heaven

by Alwaysevak2121, nessauepa



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff, M/M, Slow burn that went wrong, True Love, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-11-08 12:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20835404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alwaysevak2121/pseuds/Alwaysevak2121, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessauepa/pseuds/nessauepa
Summary: 3 times Isak and Even met at friends' weddings, plus 1 time they didn't.*This is a finished work*





	1. Chapter 1

Isak hates weddings, which is pretty bad when all of your friends decide to marry.

The bride is marching down the sandy aisle illuminated by two lines of torches, towards the sea, impossible to see, hidden in the night but breaking and rolling loudly in Isak's back. Isak is respectfully up, like everybody else, but with an elbow bent over his head he tries to reach and smooth over his nape that piece of plastic keeping the collar of his shirt crisp and neat. Isak has no clue why it's essential for a shirt collar to stay straight when in the first place, they're useless. It's driving him insane, rubbing and itching, will totally leave a red welt as a remembrance of this wedding.

Isak sighs, and with the other hand tries to loosen up the tight knot around his neck, squeezing his throat until it becomes a little bit harder to swallow down. Isak forces a swallow down just to prove his point. And it crosses his mind that if he were to ever join a fight with these clothing on, he'd be so fucked. And it's not like Isak has ever got physical with anyone like that, but it seems just rational to prefer being prepared for a battle rather than keeping the shape of this fabric.

_Here lies Isak, died in action, but his collar neck stayed erect._

Isak snorts and an old man with a unibrow throws him a glance. He recomposes his face and sighs, he just doesn't get it, why is that, that for Jonas to marry Eva, he needs to be leashed like that. But Eva has picked up a dark olive shirt _'highlights the best man's eyes'_, and Isak has still to learn how to say no to people. Dammit, if he knew it, he wouldn't still be working at the same architecture office doesn't give a fuck about sustainability or clean materials.

It's not that he isn't happy for Jonas and Eva, of course he is. They seem to really have a chance to be it for each other. If anyone succeeded, it's them. But to lay your heart all open to someone to potentially break it, it's fucking scary. As if Isak had met anyone he'd wanted to open his heart anyway. Fucking weddings, making him think stupid things.

It's the tie, and the sand sneaking into his sneakers, and the sweat, and the heat. It's the global warming, shoving it in Isak's face, that this is the cost of every building he's ever projected. Of all the cement that has gifted to the atmosphere more carbon monoxide than he could ever replant. And just like that, Isak is thinking and rethinking all of his life choices, completely dismissing the priest, shepherd, or shaman, whoever is this guy with dreadlocks celebrating this wedding.

Isak scans the dressed-up crowd and his eyes land on the middle rows. His jaw drops in an indignant _Ah_. Because right there, meddled with people in perfectly ironed shirts, there is this single guy boasting a loosened collar. He's wearing a white linen shirt unbuttoned almost until his belly button. Isak dislikes this stranger of free spirit immediately.

A surfer, Isak decides. Also decides to give him character and a background story. He's Australian, because surf took Isak to this path, because Isak has not always full control of his own head. Because the guy has blonde hair falling in waves over his face, which seems to match Isak's stereotypical portrait of people from basically a whole continent. Isak tilts his head to analyze him, and...Rá! He determines that the guy is in a tech detox, this would explain why he didn't get Eva's dressing code and therefore the dreaming, aired shirt. Oh, he seems so comfortable. Damn hipster surfer.

A surfer with nice hair, though. And he seems mesmerized by the wedding couple because even though Isak can't see his face properly, he notices the corner of his lips curved into a smile. He probably has a wide wild smile with perfect teeth, it'd fit the picture.

Isak huffs to himself and focuses on Jonas and Eva, walking hand in hand now that the official part is over. They look happy, they really do. Isak can't help smiling at the sight. And if there's some sort of indefinable longing in his chest, to feel things like that, no one needs to know. He brushes it off as soon as he acknowledges it.

Isak is twenty-four years old and still tries to muffle his feelings with booze at parties, which never really works out, on the contrary, it makes the inner voice speak louder. Though Isak doesn't drink until it is yelling anymore, only enough to let Jonas give him a piggyback ride towards the cake table. Jonas, who has now Isak's tie around his forehead and seems so happy.

Okay, he may be a bit tipsy, but he's quite sure the person standing next to the cake with his back to Isak is that surfer guy again.

"Surfer guy!" Isak shouts, jumping from Jonas' back with a not so elegant landing.

Blonde guy turns around and his hair makes a whoosh like he controls the wind. But when blue eyes land on him, Isak feels betrayed. They were supposed to be brown, in his head.

Isak squints his eyes like a suspicious cat, pointing his finger very close to the guy's nose, "What do you think about climate change?"

Before he's time to even open his mouth, Jonas is shoving a plate into Isak's face, saying, "Dude, you need to taste this. Our wedding cake is the best of all the cakes existing!"

Isak has no option but to turn his attention to Jonas, tie dangling from his forehead. He grabs the plate and almost, maybe even more than nearly moans, it's so good.

"Jonas, I swear for my _Xbox. _This is absolutely the best wedding cake I've ever tasted!"

Well, there are not so many wedding cakes he's tasted, but who cares about details.

"Is that so?" says a deep voice. "That's a strong statement."

Isak is so bewitched by that sugar heaven, feeling in his tongue the silk cream mixed with the softest chocolate he's ever tasted, that he barely pays him any attention.

"Dude, I'm in love with this cake," says Isak, stuffing inside an unclassy mouthful of chantilly. "I think this cake might be the love of my life."

"If you're not sure, then it's not," Jonas speaks, passing an arm over Isak's shoulder.

"But don't worry," says blondie. "It still may give you a few good years."

Isak hums for that, still enjoying the treat and just nods when Jonas tells him he's gonna look for Eva.

Isak peeks then at blondie. Then at the cake in his hands, the guy again, and says, "Wanna have some?"

He's rewarded with a smile. And that, just like his eyes, not exactly what he had anticipated in his excellent analysis before.

"I think I'm good," he replies with sunshine in his voice.

This guy smiles too much, makes him look too...too kind, too approachable, too vulnerable. Isak wonders if he even realizes that, if he's ever been hurt because of that. If he'd want cake if he hadn't. If he's maybe diabetic, if he then got too tempted after Isak's ode to the cake.

"Are you diabetic?" Isak blurts out, and his face falls to accompany it. Empathetic like just good drunk people can get.

Even chuckles, "What? That's not even—"

But Isak interrupts him, not capable of understanding why it suddenly matters so much, "Why don't you just want the cake?"

He laughs, "You're quite a handful, aren't you?"

"Bitch, I prefer high maintenance," Isak mumbles, his cheeks engorged by the generous bite he's taken.

The guy's stare is intense, makes Isak's jaw slow down in all the chewing, "What?"

"I'm just wondering if you maybe have a date—somewhere—waiting for the cake."

Isak bows over, gesturing to the guy to do so. When they're so close that Isak can feel his deodorant fragrance and see inside his deep collar, Isak whispers, "This..." he nods at the party. "I'd _neeeeeeeeeeever_ bring a date to a wedding."

"_Whyyyyy_?" the guy imitates him, shaking his head. Isak ponders whether he should get offended, but when it gets too complicated he drops it. "Don't wanna share the cake?"

"People get clingy at weddings. Everything is too—romantic."

"You don't like romance?"

"I don't like clingy."

The guy arches his brow, licks his lips in a slow movement before saying low, "Is it maybe because you suck at romance?"

Isak leans right back, scoffing loudly, his face contorting until it's comical. That makes the guy laugh a peal of laughter without sound, blocked in the middle of his breathing, that makes his eyes disappear. And Isak doesn't understand why he smiles all the time, it can't be healthy.

"I'm the master of romance!" he shouts. "I can romance anyone at any time."

The guy raises his palms at him, "I believe you."

This disarms Isak. He complains, baby-talking, "I'm tired."

The guy studies him with big eyes, lifts one shoulder, "Wanna sit—with me?"

He amends, "If you have nothing against sitting at weddings?"

Isak peeks at the cake with longing, "Can we bring more cake?"

Blondie smiles, smiles all the way to the table, following Isak's curls zigzagging through the party. Isak knows that because he keeps looking back to smile his innocent alcoholized smile at him. When they sit, the guy doesn't do it across from Isak, he sits right by his side, pulling the chair closer and turning it to him. Then he rests his face on his hand, with an elbow on the edge of the table and sighs, "So what's the story behind you?"

The question is kind of vague, yet Isak feels he needs to give a quick answer before indulging into his thoughts too much, "Maybe I'm just a guy that likes cake."

He rubs the torn skin around his thumbnail, waiting to hear the guy's laughter, but when he glances at him, he sees it again, that smirk. And it's not amused one, it's just soft, his blue eyes looking at him with unexplainable fondness.

It makes Isak confess, "I don't know. Maybe I'm just a guy that can't help wondering how they do it."

He doesn't say a thing back, letting Isak continue if he wants to. And for some reason he does, "How do they find someone to accept all that is them, flaws and all."

"I don't think you're supposed to find it. I think it finds you."

Isak grimaces thinkative, "You really don't think they're faking it? A little bit?"

"What?" he says surprised.

But he's listening, he's not snorting at Isak, which is the only thing makes Isak not to refrain it, "You know, like hysterical pregnancy."

"Okay," he chuckles, "You've lost me now."

"Sometimes you want to live something so much that your body will fake it. It's just that people _want_ to fall in love."

"I know it's real."

"How so?"

"Empirical evidence."

"Was it like in the movies?" Isak asks in a weak mocked impression, but his eyes are glued to the guy's face, waiting.

"Better. While it lasted."

"What happened?" Isak dares to ask.

The guy takes a deep breath and runs a hand into his hair, messing with it in a controlled way. He's one of those guys. But surprisingly, this doesn't make Isak annoyed, maybe because he can _see_ he's not just a facade.

"Sometimes love is just not enough," he replies simply.

"Wasn't love supposed to conquer it all?" Isak speaks, throwing him a phantom smile.

"Love without compatibility is endless torment. You hurt double. Because of all those feelings that you don't want to lose. And you hurt every time there is proof of all the beliefs you and she can't agree."

_She_.

Is there any way this guy is mistaking what's happening there? That Isak is into men, even though he can't recall the last time he has dated them? That when this guy speaks, and his Adam's apple bobs up and down, it's like eye candy. And all this wedding stuff, the low lighting, is getting into his system. _Dammit_.

"And now. Is there..." Isak plays with his words, folding the table cover. "Someone waiting for your cake?"

There is a pause that almost makes Isak peek up before he hears it, "Too many flaws."

"Cool," says Isak and risks a smiley glance, feeling his head getting hot when realizing what he's just said. "I mean, not—"

"Cool," he cuts him off, pleased anyway, and their eyes make a delicious contact.

Isak has to swallow down. And the guy follows _his_ Adam's apple up and down.

All this glucose is taking away his liquid courage. He knows that because the guy's eyes are getting bluer and his face more pleasant to look at.

Isak looks at his hands again, trying to distract himself a bit and shrugs, "I mean everyone has flaws, like bad taste in films or snoring or—I don't fucking know—always losing the other sock when doing laundry. But…the scariest part is that after accepting those things and getting to know the person through the surface…what if there's just the fact that you're just not lovable?"

Quickly there's a light touch of fingers brushing Isak's knuckles. He can't take his eyes away from them when the guy says softly, "Maybe they just fail to see it."

Isak can't help moving the back of his hand ever so slightly against those fingertips, "To see what?"

Isak gives him a glance, and there's something soft yet vulnerable in these eyes when he answers, "The beauty of being real."

They keep looking at each other, and it's so easy, but also troublesome, it's like ice running up Isak spine in the hottest day of the year. Eventually, Isak's face splits into a smile. The guy smiles back at him, for no reason, his eyes sparkling when he asks, "So…what's your taste in films then?"

_Hm_.

Isak knows it shows in every curve of his face when he's thinking. He doesn't know why is that, that he looks like a cartoon character, he can't help it. So he writhes his lips fishing the answer that would impress him. Just that, it doesn't feel right to give him the powerful, fake answer, feels like a big fucking betrayal after what they've been sharing.

And every single emotion settles in Isak's face one after the other, like glass for blondie to peek through, like in a fucking zoo. It's not exactly comfortable, but Isak is used to.

What he doesn't expect is that delighted huff that breaks out of the guy, right before he is linking their fingers in a grasping hand-holding. They both freeze. It closes Isak's throat too, it's so nice, to have a hand willing to hold you. It's carnival inside his chest.

And it shows again in Isak's face, getting all flushed. Maybe it shows in his dazed speechless state because the guy is looking at him wasted, the muscles of his face all loosened, brows slightly up, breathing through his lips like his heart is pumping too hard. Their eyes too opened for them to see everything inside.

"Is this okay?" he asks with his baritone voice, yet, it leaves so softly.

Isak manages a rushed nod, speaking before he's to acknowledge these feelings poking the longing he's ever managed to keep jailed, "I'm not uncultured, alright? I could give you a list of Iranian movies, the last _Lars Von Trier_. But if I'm being truthful...I've to answer the pop, good and old _Tarantino_."

"_Tarantino_ is great," he reassures him.

"Yeah, but you know, people say _'cliche and blablabla'_."

He laughs, "I hate when people go all '_blablabla'_."

"Shut up," he mumbles, but a beautiful boy is holding his hand.

One who looks too much at him, and it's distraught, to be that _seen_. It's brutal.

"What?" Isak shakes his head lightly.

"Just trying to figure out..."

"What?" Isak's voice goes octaves lower.

"You."

"What about me?" Isak leans a little bit towards the chant of that voice.

"Why you're so endeavoring to me," he says wildly.

Isak squeezes his hand absentmindedly, unbothered that he's giving himself up. It's okay.

He gives him a crooked smile and says, "Maybe I don't want you to figure me out just yet."

The guy huffs lazily and how come can one have such smiling eyes.

"Mysterious, huh?" he whispers, now no reason for more than that.

"I just really like being here with you," Isak shrugs it off and looks at their laced fingers. It's a lovely sight, somewhat comforting yet still making his heart beat faster.

Isak lifts his eyes when the guy asks him, even softer than before, "Tell me just one thing about you?"

It sounds like a plea.

"Besides that you're a Xbox kind of guy," he amends.

Isak snorts softly, "I'm not. I just would never bet my _Playstation_."

Isak keeps his eyes on him while he laughs freely. Smiling too because this guy makes him want to do that all the time, it's contagious. He licks his smile and says, "What would you like to know?"

"Your name?"

"Does it matter?" Isak speaks, defying him with his brows.

He smirks back, "You know, I can figure out everything about a person from their name."

"Oh, is that?" Isak laughs. "I'm Isak. What does that tell you?"

The guy chuckles and Isak feels it in his stomach.

"Okay then, _Isak_," he says, and Isak shivers at the way the '_k'_ clicks on his tongue. "I'd risk saying you know the groom."

"Oh, what's that that gave me out?"

He continues undisturbed, "I think you've known each other for quite a long time. That itself tells me you're a good friend, someone they want in their lives. And I saw the way you looked at them earlier, with a genuine smile on your face. I think you're a good guy, not giving yourself enough credit."

Isak studies him, but can't come to any conclusion. He rushes to say, "Your turn. Tell me one thing about you."

He smiles, "I'm Even. What does that tell you?"

Isak looks at his smile, his cheeks and the corner of his eyes, the light lashes and thinks, _You are the Sun_.

"You're the Sun, dude," Isak speaks, tries to hide behind his lashes and seem unaffected. "You just have this quality. This nice smile, I bet you make people happy around you all the time."

Isak shrugs, because it's nothing, it's meaningless, holding hands with a guy that makes him feel warmer, to whom he can speak filterless and tells him he looks like the Sun. It's nothing.

But this seems to break something inside Even, something in his aura changes, his jaw getting all clenched. It makes syrens blaze inside Isak.

"I didn't mean this in a corny, romantic way," says Isak. "I mean it in an objective way."

The guy, now Even, sneaks an arm around Isak's shoulders, resting his wrist on the back of Isak's chair. Still holding Isak's hand over the table, which he brings closer to lie over his thigh.

It makes Isak feverish, to be that surrounded and protected.

The same vulnerability is there again in both their faces when Even says, "Is this okay?"

"It's nice," Isak nods blushing like a high-schooler.

"Can you tell me one of your flaws, Isak?" Even says gravely. "Because I can see none."

It messes with Isak. But he'll blame the starry sky and the string lights.

"You don't know me."

Even shifts his leg, his knee merely brushing Isak's, but it's like someone has light up a furnace in his insides.

"But I'd love to," says Even.

Isak feels like telling him all the secrets of his life.

But he glances at him and apologizes, "Well, to start with, I'm terrible at talking about me, about feelings and stuff."

And Even smiles again, kindness warming his eyes.

"I think you're doing just that," Even susurrates, and his lips hang down, exquisite.

"Maybe you're an exception," says Isak and tries to make his lips just as appetizing, keeping them apart. He adds low, "Your turn."

Even's eyes turn into the bluest pools, so vivid that it's almost spilling over. Isak gets trapped, and Even doesn't spare him, even when stating with a flat voice, "I don't always smile."

But he so deserves to smile always, Isak thinks. He deserves to have his smiles kissed.

"Well, who does anyway?" Isak shrugs dramatically, that is when the fucking collar scrapes him again.

He pulls at it, using this as an artifact to lighten the subject, "Fuck. Magnus is getting married soon too, but I fucking hate using these collars, their only purpose is to make people miserable."

Isak chuckles, Even doesn't.

"On the contrary," Even mutters, untangling their hands and getting them on Isak's shirt. "Collars are essential." 

"How so?" Isak mutters in half panic.

"Collars are made for people to have a pretext to get close, to put their hands near your face," Even spokes as he works to smooth Isak's collar with adoration, like a husband. Then raising his eyelashes, framing piercing blue eyes, he continues, "When they just really want to smell you and get at a kiss distance."

Isak kisses him first, swiping off his satisfied smirk, with Even trying to bring him up and closer, inside. Isak grabs his shirt too, and they kiss holding each other's collar.

And Isak ain't complaining no more.

Soon enough, their mouths are making kissing sounds that make Isak's head spin. Fuck, he's a good kisser, and God, Isak needed it. He can feel all his tension leaving him, his body melting against the other body. The kiss tastes of chocolate and when Isak starts plotting how to invite him to his house, it ends abruptly with someone yelling his name, tunneled, from afar.

Their mouths pop apart. And then, there is a tsunami of people running over them like a wave train.

People are shouting around them. Jonas' arms are pulling him, to which he resists instinctively, snuggling against Even.

"It's Magnus!" Jonas' tone is urgent. "Isak, are you joining us at the hospital? Fucking Magnus. We were dancing on the table, and he just dropped like a bomb. Something is bad with his arm."

Isak stands up, but his eyes seek for Even's.

Does he like Magnus that much?

"Go Isak," Even's eyes are sincere and determined. He also stands up, finding Isak's hands. "I'll find you. I promise."

"But—"

"I promise, baby. This is not the end."

_Baby_.

Unthinkingly, Isak leans into a kiss. It's soft, so is the sigh that Even lets out against his lips, that makes Isak keep his eyes closed for a little longer, his lips lingering on Even's.

"Isak!" Jonas shouts again, apologetic.

They reluctantly pull back, and Isak lets go of his hands, taking in the ever so tender, almost familiar look in Even's eyes. He nods.

They move, they walk, Jonas moaning _'baby'_ all the way. Isak elbows him, but it's weak, he's lost in his own thoughts. As if he's been struck by lightning seven times and unsure of what has just happened.

At this moment, Isak chooses to lay his heart open for the risk of having it broken. He believes him.


	2. Chapter 2

Magnus is loving being the groom marrying in a plaster cast. And Isak is happy for him and for his bride, Lucy, a girl just as naive and goofy as him. He deserves that, everyone cheers for Magnus. Even Vilde is here, giving a speech about she and Mags not being right for each other, but that he'd always be her favorite man. Isak teared up.

But Magnus or the wedding isn't the reason why Isak's face is so long, why his eyes take ages to focus on something, wandering aimlessly through the party, disinterested. All these flowers and ornamented tables make the remembrance of soft lips and warm hands poke his most intimate feelings with a sharp stick. Isak is gloomy because no blondes of smiley eyes have contacted him afterward. 

He tried to find him, asking all of his friends about the beautiful stranger. But no one seems to know who he is. Not Jonas, not Eva, they say they've no friends like him. Even is like a ghost and as the days pass by, Isak begins doubting pieces of that night.

Isak is almost, almost, but not really, grateful for his tie pulling his thoughts with how uncomfortable it is. To have it suffocating him and interfering with his swallow reflex is almost relieving. So he's kept it on.

Isak and his tie are sitting by the farthest corner, watching his friends dancing on tables. Which didn't end well at the last party, but well, when has that prevented them from making mistakes? But despite his troglodyte friends, it's a classy place, this _ Radisson Blu hotel _. It has a beautiful ballroom, covered by glass walls that let the moon create this magical aura inside, making Isak paler and his expression even sadder.

And to think Isak has even considered breaking his wedding rule to bring Even along as a date.

Isak knows he took the risk when choosing to believe him. And still, he cannot regret it, that little moment of extraordinary in the middle of all mediocrity. It felt so real, in a single conversation, he felt more himself, more free than maybe, okay most likely, ever before.

Those smiles and tender looks, teasing words, and the sound of his laughter. He still hears it, feels it, tickling his guts with warm waves.

And okay, the kissing was too good, so fucking good. Isak gets shivers even thinking about it, that's for sure. But he can't help wondering if Even is smiling right now, Isak so hopes he is, he really does. He wishes his eyes are smiling too, he wishes he, at least, gets the sunny side of life.

So no, he doesn't regret his moment under the sunshine that was him. But it still sucks at this moment, to be at the wedding alone.

It's time for the cake, Isak drags himself to the table, staring at his feet absentmindedly when he hears it. The deep, warm voice, "So, here for the cake again?"

People are walking to and from, around the table, eclipsing Even standing right in front of him. Isak's stare is from one who has seen a ghost of beautiful eyes. And when Even smiles, crocked this time, there is a pinch in Isak's heart. Because now he's in his memory a pile of smiles to contrast and compare, but this is still the most beautiful.

Even reaches out a hand, just brushing Isak's shirt over his stomach, playfully, trying to get Isak out of his stupor. Even's eyes have this uncertainty that should make Isak speak out. But Isak is having problems to settle with one feeling. Should he be still sad, happy, betrayed?

Even grasps the tip of Isak's tie and pulls at it softly, beckoning Isak to step closer. Slowly, but surely, Even hikes Isak's blue tie with both hands in the easiest thug war of history. He gets Isak so close that there is no need for more than a whisper when he asks, "Is this okay?"

Isak covers Even's hands, resting against his own chest. He exhales, hearing Even letting out a sigh too. His hands over Even's, against his heart, it's like they belong this way, so right.

"You're here," Isak states, it's barely a whisper.

His eyes find Even's, and they're just like before, leaking the fragments of his soul. And they are, indeed, smiling, just like he wished for. But it's not amusement that radiates from them. It's joy and longing intertwined, making Isak's heart bump louder against Even's palms.

"I promised to find you, didn't I?"

They end up in the emergency stairs, kissing senseless, taking turns crashing each other against the opposite wall. Isak kisses several of Even's smiles and makes Even kiss his. It's a desperation that has built up from the unwanted distance that Isak thought would be definitive. Every time Isak remembers he'd given up, he kisses him deeper.

"Wait, Isak. Wait," Even pleads, but seems satisfied, smiles when Isak refuses to end it.

"Isak," says Even once again, and it comes out so soft, Isak stills and lifts his glance from Even's lips to his eyes.

"Yeah?" He sighs.

Even's stare is intense, in a way that makes Isak close his eyes just before Even's fingertips are caressing his temple, then his cheek. Such a feather-light touch and Isak absorbs all the tenderness, wants to store it deep inside, just in case.

He holds his breath as Even brushes his nose along Isak's cheekbone, til his jaw and then up. Isak lets his forehead rest against Even's, lets their noses to bump. And it's too much, too sweet.

"Isak," Even breathes out, and it sounds like a prayer.

Isak whimpers. And there is no hiding to it.

"I can't stop thinking about you," Even speaks.

"I can't stop thinking about you either," Isak says, allowing himself to be this _ gone _. And it leaves a sweet taste in his tongue.

Even lights up as if Isak has given him a gift.

"Isak, I don't want to have any misunderstandings in what is happening here," says Even. "I want to date you, get to know everything about you. Is it something you'd be interested in?"

"And what would dating you consist?" Isak asks all giddy, too happy to stay still, so he pecks Even's nose in the return.

Even chuckles against Isak's lips before saying with a matter-of-fact tone, "Hmm... Kissing." He plants a kiss on the corner of Isak's mouth. "And I'd definitely cook for you, and oh, of course, the most important part, cuddling, endless cuddling. I can't wait to just lie down with you and hold you."

Even's dreamy voice makes Isak mewl. He can't help teasing though, even when he's just a melted puddle, "What If _ I _ wanna hold _ you _?"

"We hold each other then," Even says and pulls Isak closer, his hands squeezing Isak's hips gently.

"Yeah, okay, I could do that," Isak smiles, wrapping his arms around Even's neck, grasping his hair between his fingers.

"Yeah?" Even grins at him.

Isak's heart opens up a little bit more each smile.

"There's something I want to show you," Even speaks as he walks in front of him, their hands dancing on his back. 

Isak follows him, gluing onto his back with two hands on Even's hips, smelling his nape and making it difficult to walk. Even giggles.

When Even leads them through a tilting door with a circular window and they end up in the hotel kitchen, well, it wasn't exactly what Isak was expecting. Isak peels himself off Even, then shifts to the side as a waiter pass in a rush with a tray of champagne glasses. He watches like a fish outside the water people moving fast around inox tables, chopping, frying, cooking louder. 

Even pulls at his arm, bringing them close to the fridge, where a guy is smiling at him invitingly. Even claps their hands in a loud handshaking that he uses to bring him close and bump their shoulders. Never letting go of Isak's hand on his back.

Isak has to flutter his lashes fast as he realizes Even is saying his name, attempting to introduce them.

"Mikael," says the guy, cleaning a hand in his apron, then extending it to Isak, who accepts speechless and dazed. 

And before he can think of a reply, the guy is gone, shaking his head as if he's participating in some sort of private joke.

When Isak turns around, Even has his brows lifted in expectation.

"I've something for you," says Even and his resolution quivers. "But you have to promise not to laugh."

Isak is clinging to Even as he opens the fridge, not willing to lose their connection. When he sees it, he can't help planting a big, wet kiss behind Even's ear to hide his wide smirk.

"Of course, babe," Isak tries the word Even used that night, just to see if on him they'd have the same effect.

"Yeah?" Even asks, turning around, leaning against the shelves, between Isak's legs.

"Although the cuddling part is yet to be evaluated." Isak murmurs in Even's nape, earning a kiss on his forehead.

In the fridge, there's a little cake with a question spelled with the frosting:

_ 'Will you be my date tonight?' _

And all the promises enclosed on that statement makes Isak's head spin with excitement.

"Where did you buy it?" Isak asks, taking some of the chantilly with his forefinger. He loves cake, alright.

"There is this store nearby..." Even replies, satisfied with Isak's heart eyes at the cake.

Isak grins, because what else is there to do?

"So," Even sways back and forth. "I thought that if you don't mind bailing, we could bring the cake with us, go to the sea. And—" Even licks his lips. "I've this app with all these first date questions, I thought we could try," Even's voice is dying and is adorable. "I love games. It's one of my flaws."

And Isak, who was never one for games, catches himself saying honestly, "I would love to."

They sneak out of the hotel and catch a single electrical scooter that was never supposed to fit two big guys. They've their cake in a plastic bag that Even tries to balance on the handlebar. He tries to control it with Isak yelping behind him and laughing more than he can even recall.

Isak can't help thinking when they settle down on the beach, sitting on their jackets and watching the moon, is this even real? His eyes can't leave Even's face, not when the moonlight is caressing his features, and he looks almost ethereal.

He must let out a gasp when Even meets his eyes. They look darker now the sun ain't shining, but when the pale light hits them, they're sparkling, changing shades like a river flowing.

"I'm thinking," Even says.

"What?" Isak whispers.

"How long it'd take to count your lashes."

Before Isak has time to respond, Even touches the corner of his eye with his fingertip, making Isak close it. Isak sighs when Even gently brushes his eyelashes, causing them to flutter.

"I think I could do just that infinitely." 

"You are cheesy," Isak smiles with his eyes closed.

"Another of my flaws," Even speaks.

"I think I love your flaws," Isak replies.

Even sighs, "Shall we start?"

Isak opens his eyes, confused, and ah, alright. They were supposed to do that.

Isak tries a nonchalant, too cool for school raising of shoulders, not to give in too much. Because honestly, Isak feels like Even would fart rainbows, and it makes him scared. How much he wants to be right here, right now, in the present.

Even pulls his phone out of his pant pocket, and Isak watches his face as he maneuvers it. Isak wants to get to know him, to have his features imprinted in his brain. He wants to unravel Even, this is the word. 

"What's the most interesting thing about you?" Even reads and just then lifts his eyes from the phone. 

"Can I have my cake while I think about that?" Isak asks frowning and doesn't understand why Even laughs so much. 

Even hands him the cardboard box and a plastic spoon, and when Isak discovers it's a cheesecake, his face lights up like a Christmas tree.

And then Isak answers, mouth full of cake, "I'm not sure if it's interesting. But I love the concept of parallel universes."

Isak lets his eyes wander to the moon again.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Even looking at it too when he asks, "Like there are more universes of us, sitting together on a beach?"

Isak covers Even's hand with his own while answering, "I'm sure there's a universe in which we are sitting together. Just like this. Only that we're looking at the sunset. But your eyes sparkle just the same."

"Who's cheesy now?"

"There must be something in the cake," says Isak.

"I think this answer deserved a kiss," Even speaks hopefully. And why Even is like this, when Isak has made it super clear how willing he is?

"Oi," Isak laughs, chuckling into the kiss. And it crosses his mind how he's never kissed so many smiles.

"Your turn," Even says between their lips. Everything with him is so sweet.

Even hands him his phone, and Isak glances at him before picking one of the questions, "What would your perfect morning be like?"

And now it's Isak's mind, flooding with images of what could be a perfect morning.

Even finds his eyes when answering, "Waking up with someone you love, in a warm bed, wrapped by sheets. Opening your eyes and looking at them with certainty that it doesn't get better than that. This is the perfect morning to me. What about you?"

"I don't know," Isak plays with his jacket under him. "I'm not exactly a morning person, people say I may be rude in the morning."

Even frowns, and in no time has a thumb over Isak's cheek, "I can't believe this. You're not rude, look at you. You're so sweet."

Sweet?

"You don't know me," Isak says weakly.

"What is that you do that is rude?"

"I have no patience," says Isak like a kid confessing their crimes. "Then sometimes I yell, being just awful in general."

"Do you sleep well?" Even asks and surprises Isak.

"Not really," he replies and surprises him even more, he's so used to lie. "Sometimes, my thoughts keep spiraling inside my head, and it's difficult to let go of them. Then when I see how late it is, it's stupid, but it's like my brain thinks 'may just finish the work and completely screw up this night'."

Isak chuckles. Even doesn't. Makes him confess even more, go even deeper.

"I can't sleep well by myself. I'm twenty-four, but it's like a curse. It was better when I was dating." He amended, "Ex-boyfriend."

Even hums.

"What happened? To the boyfriend?"

"He woke me up early, and I killed him," Isak speaks, and Even smirks, but still waits for Isak. 

Isak sighs, and reveals what he has never revealed to any of his friends.

"He wanted to marry me."

Even huffs, and mutters, "Of course he wanted."

Isak doesn't understand, but soon Even is adding carefully, "And you didn't?"

"It wasn't like in the movies," says Isak and can't believe he has said that out loud.

But Even isn't laughing at him. Of course he isn't. He gives him that fond look that Isak already adores. Yet, never cease to amaze him.

It's too much and too little, to have these sparkles in Even's eyes blinding his, and this longing to just get closer. Isak wants to feel that sparkling against his cheekbones, wants to know if it's possible to drown in this feeling.

They lean closer to one another at the same time, ending up lying on the ground, facing each other. Their eyelashes flutter against each other, that close their faces are. And Isak thinks it'd take even longer to count them now that they are mixed.

Isak pecks him once because the moonlight urges him to do so, caressing Even's cheek ever so lazily in the process. And there is sand entangling up in his hair, but Isak doesn't care, it feels like one of these nights will hold some importance in the future, in the scheme of things.

"What's the next question?" Isak breaks the night, and there is a vulnerability on it that leaves him bare.

Even leans back to peek at his phone, and it highlights his blue eyes, that Isak won't confess, but strikes him through.

Even asks, "What's is that you can't do?"

"Cartwheel," he says pronto. "I could never do them."

"Neither as a kid?" Even asks, putting too much weight into such a silly thing.

Isak shakes his head.

"Well, we can't have it," says Even standing up, rubbing the sand off his pants.

Isak sits, flabbergasted, but Even is already extending a hand towards him.

Isak has no much choice but to take it. Even pulls him up and makes him run until Isak laughs. Until it's the middle of the beach. Where they're just two shadowed forms, making Isak more comfortable to keep the grin on.

It's absolutely ridiculous. Isak has to go through Even's explanations and demonstrations without laughing from too much happiness. He's just bursting with joy that he's got to live this night.

Isak barely leaves the ground, with two hands on the sand, and small kicks in the air. It's so ridiculous that Even snorts, and strangely Isak wants to hear it more. So maybe he makes himself clumsier than he is in fact.

Even takes it seriously, at some point is helping Isak get higher, wrapping his ankles as he's upside down. Isak is safe and grounded, despite his feet being up in the air. 

And it's unpretentious when it happens, a full cartwheel with high amplitude that leaves Isak shocked. He looks at Even, just as surprised with two arms over his head.

Even cheers so much that when he bumps on him, wrapping his thighs and lifting him, Isak feels proud for himself too. Even carries him through the beach, and Isak lets him, burying his face in his hair, unable to take that smile from his lips.

It resembles a movie.

When they're walking together again, hand in hand, Isak notices a dock and leads their steps towards it. They sit on the edge, looking together at the absurdly beautiful moon. And at this very moment, there's no time or place. It's just them and the horizon.

With cool water caressing his feet and Even's warm hand on his, Isak feels content. There aren't many people with whom it's easy to just enjoy the silence, to just be. Isak lets out a soft sigh, glancing Even, and just like that, he drowns in his eyes again. Who would have known how much warmth blue could contain?

Isak lifts his chin and is rewarded with a kiss, and another and one after that. Then there's no kiss anymore, they're smelling each other skins, bewitched by feelings in a way akin to magic. Even moans into it in the most adorable way. 

"I see no flaws, not a single thing," Isak whispers and Even shuts his eyes.

Even's face pacifies as Isak squeezes his head, gently, soothingly. Isak wants to tell him things about himself and his past, his future.

"Maybe I don't want you to figure me out just yet," Even speaks, using Isak's words from the other night.

"Maybe I already have," Isak replies and doesn't miss Even's eyes getting round and intrigued before he reads Isak's playfulness and smirks.

Isak realizes he enjoys being this version, with the pickup lines and the absurd flirting. That he can even see himself putting effort into it. That he'd love getting Even snorting as he did earlier, making himself the clown. In those sheets, that bed from Even's perfect morning.

Isak tries to read Even's eyes and minds to ask him '_ who you are? What's you?' _ But what gets him quiet is that sense of ' _ there you are, where have you been? I have missed you _'.

Even parts his lips, blinks and looks at the horizon. He looks at Isak as about to say something.

Isak tries to tell with his eyes that whatever it is, he can say it. He takes Even's hand, and the look in Even's eyes changes, as though he's made a decision. But these eyes contain so much vulnerability that it breaks Isak's heart. _ 'What is it that makes you look suddenly so sad baby', _ Isak thinks, ready to do whatever it takes to get them to sparkle again.

"I'm bipolar...still see no flaws?" Even asks, but keeps his eyes on Isak's, that brave man.

Words are never enough, but Isak tries anyway, "I see _ you _."

Even exhales audibly and glances their linked hands. Isak lifts them on Even's heart and adds, because he's not able to keep it inside, "And you're so damn beautiful, Even."

They lean onto each other, comforted by the presence of the other. For someone to see, they're just two boys enjoying a beautiful evening. As if their heartstrings weren't bounding together through all the facade and fancy clothes.

"Ask me the next question," Even mumbles against Isak's hair.

Isak picks up the phone and how convenient. He turns his head and finds Even's eyes, "Have you ever felt like you met someone in a previous life?"

Their smiles grow together, conspiratorially.

"Isak," Even pleads, taking his hands. They both look at it. "People say I wear my heart on the sleeves, that I open myself too much for hurting. And they've a point."

Isak frowns, his heart starts beating funny.

"Have you—" Even hesitates. "—Do you know about bipolarity?"

Isak shrugs, "A little bit. Magnus' mom has it."

"I'm happy with what I am. I'm twenty-seven years old, and believe me, it took time for me to understand there is nothing wrong with me. I'm not a liability, I'm a good son, a good friend, I'm a cooker. I draw, I'm a great swimmer, I could have made a career of it, but my heart wasn't on it. And Isak, one thing about me is that I follow my heart, this one that is always on my sleeve. I just have no enough of it anymore to give to people who will try to fix me."

Isak listens to Even and to his heart beating in his ear.

"I want to ask you something," says Even. "I want you to leave today, do your research, talk to people, and if after all of it, you still think I'm not broken. If you still feel like there is more to discover. If you're as intrigued as I am. If you want to figure out what is this, what we can be, just—wear this blue tie to the next wedding. I'll be there."

Isak opens his mouth but Even interrupts him, "If not, I won't hold any grudges. We'll always have tonight."

"I don't think you're broken," Isak murmurs.

Even's jaw hardens, he sighs, "It'd be too easy to let you lead me on, to give you everything. But, Isak, please, it's important. I don't think I can afford to give away more _ everythings _."

Isak looks at Even carefully, his eyes searching any kind of sign that he doesn't mean it. Because Isak is ready to jump, to dive in just about now if Even wants it. But those blue pools are sincere.

"Okay," Isak indulges but shows him through caressings on his cheek his intent.

Even leans into the touch, breathing into Isak's palm a quiet, "Thank you."

"I was thinking, though," Isak starts and can't help letting his lips curve into a smile when continuing, "Should we test the cuddling part beforehand, just a little bit. To make sure it works?"

Even defies him with his brows arching, which Isak disarms, reaching out two arms towards him. Even is way too easy, accepting Isak's warm chest, fitting his shape against Isak, who leans them back on the dock slats. And it isn't supposed to be comfortable, just that it is. And when Even raises his eyes, big and curious, to check on him, Isak just sees beauty, and thinks, how can anyone believe you're broken.

"It's so nice," Even murmurs.

"What?" says Isak just to hear it back.

"Hold, being held," Even replies, flapping Isak's tie with his fingers. "It's been a while."

"If you were mine, I'd hold you all the time," Isak speaks and freezes. Fuck, has he really said that?

But Even snuggles up, and Isak can perceive an invisible, unexplainable change in the air wrapping them. It brings Even closer, and Isak starts noticing it's safe to be with him. That it brings more of him in return.

It's so soothing, to lie in Even's embrace, having his fingertips softly drawing patterns on his back. Isak plants a kiss on Even's jaw.

"I have an important thing to ask though," Even murmurs into his skin, making Isak revel on it. He's starving for his touches already, okay.

"Hmm," Isak replies, and fuck it comes out almost like a purr.

"Do you squeeze the toothpaste from the middle or the end?" Even cracks up in mid-sentence making Isak burst out laughing too.

Isak swallows that beautiful laughter, trying to absorb as much sunshine as possible.

"I'll find you again," Even promises with a new resolution, and continues, "But only if you want me to."

_ I will _, Isak thinks, but respects Even's wish.

Their kisses turn soft, lingering. Isak wants to remember this feeling, to carry this little piece of heaven with him until he gets to taste it again.

The first sunray of the day peeks up and chooses Even's face to lie upon. It makes sense, Isak thinks. He's beautiful at night, but during the day, he's in his element, he shines so bright.

"I don't want to say goodnight," Even whispers, craning his neck back.

"So don't," Isak replies and squeezes him tighter. "Let's say good morning, that's not a farewell. Because this isn't."

Even smirks and says, "Good morning."

Isak catches his lower lip, kisses him.

"Good morning," Isak replies between them.

"Good morning," Even repeats, and is rewarded with even another kiss.

"Good morning," Isak speaks and kisses, kisses as retaliation for the distance Even starts putting between them.

"Good morning," Even repeats, pecking him. And now their bodies are not glued anymore.

_ Good morning. _

Isak opens his eyes and Even has vanished like a dream. He stays in there a little longer, trying to solidify the memories, not to lose it.

He smiles to himself, then breaks laughing. He knows it's just a matter of time. He's going to fall in love for the first time. This frightens him, but less than he gets excited. 

Even seems like a beautiful person to do that with.


	3. Chapter 3

This time when Isak looks at the happy wedding couple, he doesn't fight the feelings growing inside of him. Chris has her brown hair all free, with a white flower crown giving her an ethereal look. When Isak sees how the groom, Gabriel, gazes at her, all moonstruck, he embraces the longing for having something like that. Now it isn't just some vague concept he yearns for, now it's something real. It's him, Even.

He can't wait for Even to see him wearing his blue tie over a blue shirt. Blue, blue, blue. He can _ not _ wait. It's not a physical impossibility, but it almost feels like it. Like a literal incapacity of standing any extra minute. He's planned it all, they're going to meet eyes, Isak is going to smile, is going to tell with a single glance he doesn't think of him as damaged. He wants Even to see through his body language before he can even get to him, that he's all in. That he'd have to be much more stupid to lose someone he's been waiting since he was a teenager.

He wants him to know it doesn't need to be easy to be perfect. That he wants to date the shit out of him. That he may have fallen a little bit in love at first sight, to be honest. That he wants to live their movie.

When the ceremony is over, Isak lets his glance wander through the party, eager to find those eyes so dear to him already. Eyes containing oceans, where Isak wants to dive in as deep as possible and beyond. Blue pools that can radiate light as the Sun itself. Isak remembers every single look he's got, those rays of sunshine warming his heart even in his memories.

So Isak looks around, seeing many eyes, many smiles but not those he seeks for. He doesn't really take in his surroundings, just keeps walking, browsing the crowd.

His mind wanders through silly paths, painting the future he can now foresee. The house he can finally see himself building, the voice welcoming him home that now has pitch and tone. Embodied like reality.

Isak is daydreaming when people fall from the sky. Wait, people aren't supposed to do that. From the ground, with his back hurting and legs bent strangely, he hears the high pitched yelp from the person covering his body. Magnus lies over him with a big fat cut on his arm.

"Why the fuck do you have to always dance on the counter!?" Isak screams out of panic more than anything.

But then Magnus glances at the cut dripping red liquid and begins making gag sounds as if he's about to throw up. _Fuck, fuck._

Isak presses his hands over it as approximately half party calls emergency, and the other half records them shamelessly. And with three fast synapses, Isak has thoughts jumbling one another. First, he wonders if it's possible to jam the emergency lines. Then if it'd be possible to reach more than one of these amateur cinematographers with a shoe. Finally, whether Even is already here.

Magnus brings him back to his shit present with a long wail, "I'm going to _dieeee_."

There's a circus around them, people breathing hot on Isak's neck. He tries to push them away, but then Magnus' arm squishes blood upwards like a fountain of chocolate. People yelp and step back.

Isak needs a tourniquet.

He shuts his eyes, to his tie say goodbye. But then Jonas' one dangles right and left, above his nose, making him look cross-eyed at it. Providential fate.

"Hand me your tie!" Isak extends a hand towards Jonas.

Jonas makes a face, darting eyes to Isak's tie. But loosens his own nevertheless, placing it in Isak's hands.

"I—I need my tie," Isak explains, but Jonas dismisses him with a nod. He really is the best bro a guy could wish.

Then Magnus lets go a long, soul-suffering wail as if he's losing a limb in battle.

Isak moves, tieing the fabric tight on Magnus' upper arm, he pulls at it until Magnus is wincing, and then more. 

Isak, covered in blood and sweat, without any remnants of the fancy cologne, hopes Magnus will survive. From the bottom of his heart, so he can kill him with his bare hands.

Well, he still breathes in relief when paramedics take the situation in hand and assure them that he's going to be okay.

_I could have been a doctor._

As soon as they leave, it's like it never happened. People just continuing from where they've left.

Just that Isak is half-ruined. He heads towards the bathrooms, washes his hands and face, and groans out loud staring at his reflex in the mirror. Everything is crooked, creased and disheveled. But the tie, at least, hangs there intact, as blue as Even's eyes. Isak smiles back at his happy image and practices, _ 'hey, baby'._

On his way back, he notices people are starting to have cake, and he knows he has a fond smile on his face. Nowadays, cake bringing Even to his thoughts instantly. Jonas finds him like this, with an intrigued smirk sticking in the corner of his mouth. He tells him Magnus just called, that it looked way worse than it actually was. So all good in that department.

Now it's just a matter of time for Isak to hold _him _in his arms. And never let go again.

But where is him?

The cake has come and gone, and Isak starts feeling a little sick in the stomach. This whole time he's been concerned about Even knowing Isak is cool with whatever are his struggles, that Isak also has some of his own. God knows. But pretentious as he is, Isak didn't consider the other way around. Even realizing he doesn't want him that bad, that it was just a silly fling what they had.

It makes all these dreams he's been building up crumble down like a skyscraper of sand. He looks at people walking around him in pairs as if to trample over him. He's opened his heart, and now it's there, all cracked open and unprotected.

When a hand lands over his shoulders, Isak smiles, knows he's about to turn around and meet Even's eyes half-closed into two arcs. He's going to kiss him first, or just hug him. Maybe do both. Or perhaps nothing, too choked up, with his heart outside his body. 

Isak turns back, loaded with the _'hey, baby'_ he's been rehearsing. 

The words get stuck in his throat. It's a slap in the face, to be betrayed by the universe like this.

It's not Even.

"Isak, hey. Long time, no see," says a voice from the past, making Isak escape the contact unconsciously. It's just not the person whose touch he longs for.

Isak smiles half-heartedly. He doesn't want to lose time for this, his eyes keep continually seeking that blue pair owning his heart.

He decides to give him his eyes, and his—almost—undivided attention. It's the least he deserves. He's a nice guy, and Isak broke his heart.

Isak crosses an arm over his body, holding his other arm, creating himself an armor.

"Karl, hey. You look good," says Isak taking in his militarily short brown hair. And immediately regrets it, doesn't want him reading too much from it.

But it's a huge contrast from the last time he saw him. Carrying big blue marks under his eyes and no life in his glance. That last night.

He wished he could tell him he's everything someone looks in a guy without it meaning anything. That his eyes are beautiful, big and blue and exhilarating for the right audience. Just that they're the same color, not the same experience. That he kissed him fast when Isak wanted it slow. That he lingered when Isak wanted speed. That they were never at the same place at the same time.

Karl grimaces, pointing a thumb back to the party, "I hope you don't mind—Gabriel—you know—"

"Nein!" says Isak shaking his head. "He was your friend before he was mine." Isak's voice dies in the end.

It's sad, that everything they've ever meant to each other turned into this, them, treating their friends like spoils from war.

"I wasn't even sure you were going to attend," he says. "I mean, I know how much you hate weddings."

Well, it's true, he used to hate weddings. Before. Isak smiles weakly as an answer, but when averting his eyes, his heart skips a beat.

_There you are._

Their eyes lock, and warmth spreads all over Isak's body, _that_ strong is this sort of pull between them. Even's eyes light up like fireworks at night, holding more power than all of the stars combined. Warm blue, blue and blue, the most beautiful blue wrapping Isak in sweet, sweet tenderness. And when Even breaks into a smile, Isak can not help it, he sparkles back, just as gone.

_Fuck, how I missed you._

Suddenly there's no one else at that party. Just a hot, muting fog and light canons directed to them. Like in a magical theater.

Even is standing ahead like a star, with his skin smoother than it's ever looked, lips bigger than when Isak swelled them up. A fine beauty, more delicate than a baroque angel. Isak has to lick his lips to force the muscles by his mouth to straight up. To stop this madness. But it's hard, it's fucking hard when that man is looking back with his unashamed wide grin.

Isak is pulled back to a voice that should have made sense quicker than it does, "Fuck." Nervous chuckles. "What's this guy doing here?"

Isak's face goes slowly, slowly morphing, frowning gradually. Slowly, slowly catching the changes in Even's smile. First, becoming weak, then stamped there like a forgotten gesture. Even's eyes widening, and the Sun in them dying. Isak can't comprehend what's happening, but his body is protesting, shiverings running down and up, like an alarm.

Mechanically, Isak turns his neck to the man by his side, but his eyes stay glued ahead.

"That guy," he says in a conspiratorial tone, an arm raising on Isak's peripheral vision. Even recoils as though he's being whipped, but it's Isak's heart that gets an open wound. "He took his clothes off at my sister's wedding."

When Isak's smile goes away, it's the first of Even's steps back.

"I had to hold him until the police came, he was so out of it. I heard later he has some sort of condition..."

Isak picks one word here and there, but what he truly only takes is Even, closing his eyes like he's in pain. Suddenly, it's cold, so cold. Even is hurt. When Isak realizes that and Even turns around, all Isak can think is '_ No, baby. I'm not gonna let you go'. _

Isak turns to the man on his side, speaking flatly, despite the chaos in his chest, "I think that's something that belongs to him, not for you to tell or me to hear."

And so he runs. He swims among people, scanning the crowd, but no blondies are peeking up from it. Isak goes as far as stepping outside the party, into the deserted street without any sign of his baby. Even is his baby, Isak thinks, and it pinches. He called him that too many times behind his closed lids, sleeping at night, or just daydreaming. He needs to tell him that what could possibly be Even's most shameful night still doesn't scare him out. That it's a revelation, but it doesn't. Fuck, he just wants to tell him he can't see an illness when he looks at him.

Isak folds an arm on the wall and rests his forehead on it. Trying to think, trying to think. But he's scared he's missed him. This can't be the end. Not when Isak has finally let someone sneak under his skin.

A hand settles softly on his shoulders. Isak heaves and turns around with a new renewed hope widening his green eyes.

But it's _him_ again.

"You gotta be kidding!" Isak blasts.

He seems remorseful, at least. 

"That guy—"

The nerves!

"What!?" Isak blurts out, stepping in his personal space.

Karl cocks his head to the side, "That smile was for him, right?"

"What?" now Isak is just confused.

He takes a deep breath, then says, "Earlier. I didn't tell you everything about him."

"I don't wanna hear it!" Isak yells. "Didn't I make myself clear?!"

Karl raises his arms, palms facing forward, "I think you would like to hear this."

Isak silences, breathing through his flared nostrils like a dragon that at any time could spill fire.

"He—"

"Even," Isak cuts him off.

"Even..." Karl repeats, and it feels surreal and unnatural, to have this name in this mouth. "He sends my sister cupcake baskets every month. Till this day. And it's been more than one year."

Isak's lips pop apart with a small sound.

"Isak?" Jonas calls him from the door, Mahdi over one of his shoulders, like a bodyguard. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Isak speaks, peeking at Karl. "Just wait inside."

"Are you two getting back together?" Mahdi mumbles at a distance and then cries out as Jonas punches him before pushing him through the door.

The two remaining keep studying each other, trying to understand what fits in the current state of their relationship. Or what has been left of it. 

Karl's glance breaks until Isak is seeing the Karl from the last night.

"Can I hug you?" he says strangled, as if he's thought it through, rejected the idea, but it forced his way out of him.

"Karl..." Isak begins, hiding from his eyes, meeting the sideways and the cigarette butts in there.

Karl throws himself at him and crushes him against his body. Isak, startled, arms dangling by his side, has no reaction. He only tilts his chin up over Karl's shoulder, seeking a channel to breathe.

Isak can't think. But soon Karl is speaking in his ear again, "Five blocks down, corner with _Skovveien_. He basically lives there."

He releases him so abruptly that Isak has to fight for his balance.

"_ This _is it now," Karl mutters, smiling sadly and turns around.

Then Isak is alone, Isak is alone, the cells in his brain warming up, ideas going around in circles. It heats up, the gray mass doing his thing until it clicks. He must hurry up, there's someone he needs to find.

Isak runs through the streets of Oslo. It's night and chilly. Still, Isak chases Even like in a movie. As if Even is about to catch a flight that will split them without Isak confessing his feelings. So Isak runs until he's facing a shop in a corner, lights on inside, visible through the glass windows showcasing some tall layered cakes. A huge neon sign decorating the facade says _ 'Epic Bakery'. _

Isak's mouth falls open. _Even is the cake guy._

He enters the shop with the heart in his throat, halting when he sees him. Even lifts his eyes and looks straight at him. Wide, wide, surprised eyes that make Isak feels everything. Isak relives the smiles, and kisses and tenderness, the feeling of coming home. Then the longing, sorrow, and heartbreaking.

Even's eyes hurt to look at.

Hot tears gather in Isak's eyes, it's what happens when he faces danger. And there has never been a more dangerous moment than now, looking at Even behind walls that have never been there.

Isak knows he's giving in too much, giving in everything. But his heart is exposed and leaking. He smiles the best he can and says, "Hey, _baby_."

Even lowers his eyes, and Isak fears he's missed him. But then Even gasps in relief, discarding the pastry bag he was using to decorate a cake in any other way. But it doesn't matter, what catches Isak's attention is Even, flipping up the counter flap and striding through. Even gets tall and present before Isak can adjust his eyes to the new sight. Even rips Isak off his feet.

"You're _ still _ wearing the tie..." Even whispers, but there's an inflection in the end that makes it sound like a question.

Isak is nodding even before pulling back.

Isak gasps and feels his chest tightening when realizing Even too has tears in his eyes. His lashes glued together due to the moisture.

With all the tenderness in the world, Isak lifts Even so that he's sitting on the counter. Even stays still as Isak examines him, eyes dropping to Even's hands grasping his blue tie. When their glances collide, Isak sees only adoration.

"I thought—" both of them start. Then laugh with their eyes on fire.

"No," they say in unison, shaking their heads.

Even splays his hands over Isak's ear, holding him firmly, then says, "Will you let me speak?"

Even chuckles. Isak likes it, the turbulence it causes in his own body when he's being held that dare.

Isak bits his smile, gesturing him to go on. He rests his hands on Even's thigh, as a boyfriend would, and it burns him. He doesn't know what this is, what this mood, and this vibration in the air are, but it leaves him tingling.

"I've never felt this way before," Even speaks, no smile in his eyes. It sucks the air and the ground.

Isak lowers his eyes, needs a moment. His hand travels up the buttons in Even's shirt until it finds the opening. Isak massages the beginning of Even's breastplate and without further thinking, presses a kiss to his heart.

_Oh, God._

He freezes, Even freezes too. Who does things like that?

But then Even bends down and rests his head against Isak's chest, cheek against Isak's heart. He wraps his arms around Isak's middle, trying to get even closer as if trying to find home in the rhythm of Isak's heartbeat. And Isak melts. Beautiful Even. 

And just like that, it's the easiest thing to admit, to whisper in Even's hair, "Me neither."

Even makes a sound of satisfaction that makes Isak put his chest out, proud that he's this man in his arms.

He cogitates then telling him his dream, telling him everything in that simple moment. But Even beats him at it.

"I've dreamt of you."

Isak closes his mouth, brushes Even's hair off his chin, with care, and love. He decides this is the Isak he's going to be with him. He'll learn from all the past mistakes and be the best thing Even has ever had.

"But if I tell you, you can't hold this against me," Even speaks.

"O—kay?" Isak says softly.

"You gotta understand that this is my way of living, that is just natural thinking," Even speaks, then takes a deep breath. "I dreamt you were my husband."

Even If Isak's heart is wide open now, he knows it's safe nevertheless. That he's got Even's heart in return. They've got each other.

Isak presses his forehead against Even's and hums. Then says, "How did it feel like, the dream?"

Even brushes Isak's nose with his own, a thing that already feels like their own. Then, just before Even dives into a sweet, sweet kiss, taking Isak with him into the softest waves, he answers, "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

His words buzz in Isak's head, getting afar, lost in the good pain in his stomach as Even kiss him.

No kiss is like this, or will ever be.

Even's mouth is soft and tender, inviting. Isak explores it with his tongue in slow strokes. He curls a hand on Even's nape to control the flow. Just that is unneeded, Even is a mind reader. When Isak wants slow, he goes slower. When Isak wants heating, Even sweeps him off his feet.

When it ends, it doesn't really end, it's imprinted in Isak's brain. Isak looks at him and smiles shyly, for being so deep inside him, for having taken so much without asking even once. But Even has stars in his eyes. How beautiful.

"This is a fucking hashtag," Isak tries this thing called speaking again. "When you've found the man of your dreams, it turns he's a killer."

Even's laughter fills Isak's stomach with warmth. Even's lips brush his neck when he speaks next, "That dream, there's just one word to describe how it truly felt."

Isak knows, he just knows how gone for him he sounds when he breathes, "Just tell me?"

Isak is pulled gently closer before Even whispers in his ear the word Isak already feels, "Home. It felt like finally having found home."

Isak hugs Even tight, wrapping his arms around his neck and breathing him in. Yeah, this is exactly how home is supposed to feel like. Safe.

Even's hands wander along Isak's lower back until a loud thud startles them apart. It's a notebook on the floor. Isak picks it up for Even. Thanking him with a fond smile. Yet he looks a bit bashful as if he's been caught.

"What is it?" Isak blurts and bites his lip.

Even gives him one of those blinding smiles that makes Isak's heart soar.

He opens it and shows to Isak pages filled with notes and sketches, "I gather here beautiful moments or things in everyday life. To remember that these little moments count. That there's beauty everywhere."

When Even turns one page again, Isak can't help letting out a shaky gasp.

There's a picture of him walking down this exact street. Before he's time to say a thing, Even whispers, "And then there's beauty that leaves one breathless."

_But. But._ Isak wants to understand.

"Have you seen me before that first wedding?" Isak asks, squinting his eyes and licking his lips like a cat.

Even follows the movement of his tongue.

"I've seen you every day at five o'clock for the past months," he says with the gentlest voice, round blue eyes. "I don't know what is that you're doing or where you're going. But it became my favorite hour of the day."

Isak parts his lips in awe and tries to ask with his eyes _ 'Really?'. _

It makes him dizzy, to realize that on those grey, ordinary days when he thought he was invisible, someone saw him. Someone extraordinary, someone as bright as the Sun saw him.

Isak hears a whimper, and when Even reaches for him with a _ 'baby?' _, Isak realizes it came out of him. It's just so much, to know he's been so close, for so long.

"I've missed you," Isak blurts out.

"Yeah?" Even asks, brushing Isak's tie again. Like it's a blissful reminder.

Isak covers Even's hand gently and locks eyes with him.

"I was never unsure about you, about—about us," Isak replies. He continues, asking the hard questions, "Why did you leave Even?"

Even looks down at their hands for a moment, "I just couldn't stand it. You—losing that look in your eyes. Isak, whatever he told you—"

"—You're going to tell me at your own pace and time."

Even gasps, relief mixed with skepticism, "Some things are—bad."

Isak lets his forehead bump against his. He confesses low, "But there's one thing he said that really bothered me, Even."

Even nods without knowing why, bracing himself for impact.

"He said you send people baskets _ every _ month. He told me for how long. That's just not right. You shouldn't do that. You don't have—"

Even presses their lips together until they lose their breaths.

"Isak," says Even, playing with their fingers. "You should know there are lots of baskets."

Isak takes a moment, sighs inwards, not letting him notice. But he does, shifting as if he has felt that breath in his face.

"He's my ex," Isak just blurts out like it's something he owns him.

Even pulls back, eyes widened in shock as if half-expecting Isak to be joking. His eyelids shut, and he mutters, "This is just great."

"Even, between him and me, it was always him. Asking me out, then to be his boyfriend. He was the one saying we should move in together. I just had to follow him."

This regains Even's attention, forehead creasing in question.

Isak continues, "But you—you—what I'm trying to say is, it's different with you..." Isak blushed, getting lost in the middle of the words. "You make _ me _ wanna do stuff."

_Fuck it._

Isak squeezes Even's hand lightly, "Even—what do you say, about us—being boyfriends?"

_Heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat._

Even raises one arm to peek at his watch and huffs fondly before saying, "Twenty-one, twenty-one. That's the time."

"What?!" Isak chuckles, knows Even is about to say something will shift his orbit just judging by the smile playing with those bountiful lips.

"This is it now," says Even inquiring and stating at the same time. "_You_. From now on."

Isak grins, then bits at it. "You and me. From now on."

_No. There's no turn back._

Isak kisses him until their hearts quiet and get in sync.

Until life seems infinite of possibilities. 


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes Isak wonders—Isak has always been an analyst—how much time you have to wait before stating you have found the love of your entire life? If ever. Would it be years or decades? Isak has no answer.

What Isak has is a love that runs from his toes, tours around his belly, spreads through his chest then explodes into heartbeats. Isak has never felt this way, like he owns gold and diamonds. Like luck has been accompanying him every day. Now Isak opens his eyes in the morning and smiles force his way into him. There is a face among all the others that makes him think in rhymes and sonnets. Isak! Isak, who has always been an analyst. 

The same Isak that couldn't conceive the concept of marriage, but now gets to wake up to Even's face daily. And suddenly he can't wait to cross these final lanes. To commit to Even in every way humankind has created. Isak wants to build them a house, whatever is Even's dream home. So when Even's lashes flutter opened in a random day of August, it bursts out of him like a sneeze he can't avoid:

"Marry me."

Even makes a face that turns Isak's stomach over. 

It's that Even has been keeping a ring in his nightstand, waiting for the right moment. This turns providential fate when, in the spur of the moment, Isak asks him without speech or jewel. 

"Isak," says Even and cradles Isak's whole face between his big hands. Isak forgets how to breathe.

"Isak," Even repeats and smiles through tears brimming his eyes, like sunshine painting the water with gold. It makes everything bright, bright, bright.

"Marry me," Even finally speaks, then sighs deeply, like it was a deep breath he was holding.

Isak finds his lungs again when he retorts, "I asked you first."

Even laughs freely at Isak's scowl and pecks him twice. Isak will never understand why his grumpiness endeavors him that much.

They kiss between tears, not realizing until the next day that neither of them gave an answer.

What leads to now. Isak, in his fancy white shirt that feels like a hug, opened in the chest, one Even has picked up himself. Even knows ties and collars make Isak prickling and irritated. He's been loosening them through all these months they're together. 

Isak is in white pants, his curls wild and bouncy are a little longer, for Even's sake. Isak loves when Even plays with them. Isak loves that man.

Fuck. Isak can't believe he's this type of guy, the one who in his wedding day won't stop thinking of his fiancee. Isak, who is insecure by nature, has no single minute of doubt.

But it's easy when you're marrying the love of your life.

It gives Isak chills. It's part of his vows to tell Even he thinks this way. Fuck, why is Even not early?

"You think he wouldn't come?" Isak asks Jonas by his side.

He knows it's irrational, that Even would show up from the war.

Eva snorts from the front row, "Right."

Isak eyes her. He's been using and enjoying this newly discovered power; no one can contradict or bother the groom in his day. Yes, Isak has been abusing this knowledge.

Eva sighs, "If he doesn't show up, I'm sending him a picture of you like this, looking like a guardian angel all in white. He'd run to you even in his sandals."

"Er—" Isak starts. "He_ is_ going to marry in sandals."

"What!" she yells. "Okay...everything has a limit."

"It's a beach wedding!" Isak defends his honor.

"Copycat," Jonas chants, not averting eyes from his phone, where he's practicing his speech.

"What?" Isak lands his hands on his waist. "We fall—we met at a beach wedding! And he looks great in sandals. He has nice feet."

"Oh my God," Eva groans and hides behind his purse. "No man has nice feet, and I have seen Even's. It's huge and—and—it's huge."

"You—you married Jonas!" Isak yells.

"Hey, man!" Jonas throws him an indignant glance.

Eva sighs resigned, "You're the one living with him for the rest of your life. If this is the image that you want to have."

It shuts Isak up. Something tightens around his heart. 

He takes his phone out, then presses the recording button in Even's chat, "I'm gonna live with you for the rest of my life." He smiles, then looks defiantly at Eva, "And, baby, you're fucking hot in sandals."

Eva does an affected eye roll.

"Who looks hot in sandals?"

Isak turns to look at Magnus and says, "And you! You stay away from tables tonight, I forbid any kind of contact with them."

"Yeah but—"

"Nope. No and no."

But Isak doesn't register Magnus' words after that. All he can sense is _him_, Even, urging towards him in giant steps.

Even wears a white shirt too, with a few buttons opened, just like the first time Isak ever saw him. He looks so soft, inviting, and gorgeous. Isak just can't help thinking, _'Is this real? Am I dreaming, can I really call him mine?' _

Even is his dream, that's for sure. And when their eyes meet, Isak pleads with his own. He doesn't want to cry just yet but knows he will if Even keeps looking at him this way. Like Isak is his dream too.

Even takes Isak's hands in his own, knowing precisely what Isak needs, grounding him with his safe touch. And maybe Even needs it too, because his hands tremble a little when Isak squeezes them gently.

And there was no slow walking through the aisle, no violins, no warning. Just two guys wanting to marry so bad that they showed up too early for their own wedding. They stand in front of each other with moons in their eyes

"You're early," Isak talks, his voice all embargoed, his eyes humid.

"You too," Even speaks, just as broken.

Isak chuckles and states, "Maybe it's just the right time then."

"It is. For us, it is." Even says and lets his thumb caress Isak's ring finger.

Isak looks around, at Eva smiling at them like they are the most adorable sight. At Jonas grinning, preparing to celebrate their wedding. At Magnus already crying. He leans in, to whisper in Even's ear.

"Baby?"

"Yeah?" Even replies in his ear, taken aback.

"I don't know if I can do it," Isak replies.

There is a pause, then a swallow, before Even speaks, "To marry?"

"No," Isak sways, hugs him, hiding in the crook of his neck, he doesn't want people to see his face right now. "The vows."

Even rubs his back. "It's okay, we don't have to if you don't want."

"I want," Isak tries to explain it to him. When he isn't even entirely sure of what he wants. "But all these people are looking. Can I say it here?"

"You can," Even says, borrowing the sweetness from each one of their best moments and condensing them into a single line. Isak feels warmer, feels like it's okay to let go with him.

"But the light, and the pictures, we will miss the sunset..."

"You're shaking," Even speaks, wrapping him tighter. "Right now, I don't give a shit about any of that."

"I just—" Isak starts and snuggles even closer to Even.

"Yeah baby, tell me what do you need?" Even says, drawing soothing patterns on Isak's back.

"You."

Even melts against him before he whispers into Isak's ear, "I'm yours."

"Yeah," Isak breathes and continues, "And I wanna be yours as long as I can. As long as time is on our side and I think even beyond that."

"You mean something like infinity?" Even asks choked up.

Isak takes Even's locks between his fingers and pulls back to look at him. He is greeted by the warmest blue existing. Isak just sighs softly, "Yeah, I knew you'd get me."

And then it's just bubbling out of Isak, his vows, "You know I have always liked buildings, architecture. I dreamt of having a house of my own, one I would project and build.

"But you made me dream of a home. And I still want to build it, but for you. You taught me that a kitchen is just a kitchen if you are there singing while cooking. That a hallway is just a hallway if you're there to greet me. And that no bedroom is a bedroom if the sheets haven't your scent. To me now, _you _are home."

Isak closes the distance of their noses, Even's ring clicking against his belt.

Isak whispers, "I'm sorry, I don't think I could do it with you looking at me, with you...marrying me."

Isak's stomach makes two twirls.

"This is just perfect. You are perfect", Even assures Isak, pecking Isak's nose in the process.

"And yeah, about home," Even speaks. "You're my home too. Nowadays, each moment shared with you feels like that. And I want to keep making those moments, creating home into these little pieces of our everyday life. Who knew how each morning could hold so much magic? It doesn't matter whether it's a lazy Sunday morning, filled with cuddles and warmth, or a busy Monday morning, with lost socks and wet puddles on the floor after a quick shower. Every morning with you is a perfect morning. Every moment with you is worth cherishing. Even when we argue it feels like we have the same goal, we are fighting for us, together. I wouldn't change a thing."

Isak's chest fills with things akin to magic, revolving around his heart, poking his stomach. 

"Can you marry us, Jonas?" Isak speaks, not giving him his glance, trapped in the amazement enclosed in those blue. There is so much love there. So Isak urges him again, "Can you get it going?"

Everyone around laughs. Even too, contradicting his eyes shining. _Damn, Even. _Isak can't not cry if Even cries. 

"Er," Jonas gets closer to the circle formed by their embrace, and whispers, "We're still early. Some people are still on their way. Are you sure you want to start _ now? _Can't you wait?"

"No," they say in unison, they laugh in unison, then peck, then hug tight, ignoring people, like they live in a world of their own.

Isak says over Even's shoulder, "We'll explain later, that we couldn't wait."

"Well..." Jonas shrugs and goes to position himself.

Before Isak can undo their hug, preparing for their life-changing event, Even traps his wrist and whispers in his ear, "You're like...wow."

Even leans back, kneading the shirt over his heart like it's hurting and mouths _'wow'. _

Isak looks back at him half scandalized, blushing hard. Even after all this time, after all this Even he's been having, he still has the power to mess with the basic functions of his body. Like the beats of his heart. And he means to tell him that if he had ever had an image for his prince charming, it'd be him, Even, this evening, all in white, with his hair on natural. But Even messes with his speech too, and he can't. But his eyes, maybe they tell them.

Isak wonders then, has any couple married that in love?

When Isak says, "I do," he's not sure people around them hear the words, that filled with heartbeat his voice is. But Even heard him, that's the only thing that matters. Even with his eyes spilling over, saying "I do," with Isak's fingertips gathering each drop these blue pools leak.

Isak's eyes are burning, there's not a chance not to cry when Even cries. When he's this man looking at him with starry eyes. And all Isak can think while marrying him is _'I'll keep you safe, I'll keep us safe, I'll keep this feeling safe, I swear, I swear, I swear it.' _

Jonas proclaims, '_You can kiss now.' _

They put a show, but it is for no audience. It's unstudied, just Isak's hand sliding up Even's loosened sleeve, wrapping up around his wrist in the softest handcuff of history. Even's hands travel up Isak's chest, bringing him together, landing over his heart that has stopped with the time altogether. Their noses kiss first. Their foreheads, their breathing mingling, until their lips meet once, shortly, then another time, tentatively, trembling. Then again, as if picking up, until their mouths decide not to split. Maybe not ever. 

Isak forgets he's surrounded by people and kisses Even until he realizes Even is all bent back. This makes Isak smile mid-kiss, bringing him up close. They finish their scene with small, privative pecks that everyone around claps to. Cheering and catcalling them. They ignore all of them. 

Isak has so much love entangled up in his heart that it hurts. It hurts, and it's even before Even pulls him into a hug where he can hide. Where Even begins singing _Etta Jones_, _'And here we are in heaven." _

Isak throws his head back and fits of laughter leave him freely.

And suddenly they are hugging and swaying, in a spontaneous, disparate trance. Isak hypnotized, by Even's smile in his ear, singing. Something he does when he is too happy. He leaks music.

_ 'You smiled, you smiled," _Even raises his hands, dancing their fingers and palms until they're hugging each other's necks. Noses getting close until it's funny to stare, which they do despite. _'And then the spell was cast.' _

They end up fully slow-dancing under the floral arbor and the starry skies. People, at some point, understand they're having a moment they shouldn't participate.

Even sings beautifully, _ 'You're mine.' _

Isak is trapped in a jail that is made of cotton and silk and cloud, and swimming pool eyes. He won't ever leave. Isak is shy, was never that free. One to dance out of the blue in front of everyone whose opinion matters most. But Isak dances with him, his husband, as people are still arriving, clueless. It doesn't matter, because Isak is Even's and Even is Isak's.

_ 'At last.' _


End file.
